The Darkness Awaits
by Amber Rose Black
Summary: Any happiness I once had left when we moved to Gotham. I had no friends, everyone hated me including my dad. The only friend I had is the voice in my head, telling me things no one could even dream of. No one except the Clown Prince of Crime, of course. Joker/OC. Rated M but not for any sexual content.
1. What Started It All

**Disclaimer: Anything you recognize I do not own**

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**Chapter 1**

"Hey, freak!" I heard Dustin, captain of the football team, shout from behind me. Great. Just what I needed. I had been so close too, standing at the top of the stairs to walk down to the court yard of the school where my bus stop was.

"What do you want, muscle head?" I asked impatiently. He smirked standing close to me.

"I just wanted to say goodbye." He said grabbing my shoulders and pushing me down the stairs. I tumbled to the bottom, almost cracking my head open. My books went everywhere. My arms were cut, my legs were cut, everything was throbbing. I got up, and stood there staring at him while him and his friends laughed.

"One day, Dustin, you will regret this." I told him, smiling, might as well try to creep him out. I walked off cheerily, you get used to the bullying after a while. Ever since I could remember I had been an outcast. I could never figure out why. Maybe it was the fact that I would rip off the heads of dolls when I was at elementary school...

"You can't hurt me, Jackson!" He yelled after me.

"We'll see about that." I whispered to myself, smirking. I arrived at my bus stop on time. I got on the bus, and walked all the way to the back where I could sit by myself. I looked out the window, thinking.

"Dustin will curse the day he was born for what he has done to me. I will kill him slowly, torture him until he is begging for death. Then I won't give it to him. Yes, that is what I'd do. He won't live past twenty".I thought to myself. I hopped of the bus at the stop near my sorry excuse for a home. I walked down the dangerous streets, making eye contact with none of the pedophiles or other people I passed by. They normally didn't bug me. I just had to pretend like I was carrying a gun in my pocket and they wouldn't dare come near me.

I got home and tried, unsuccessfully, to sneak upstairs. I got to the second step and it creaked. Damn house was falling apart, my dad only ever spent money on alcohol, I hardly ever ate.

"AMBER! WHERE DO YOU THINK YOU'RE GOING!" My dad roared. I cursed silently.

"Up to my room, I have some homework that needs to be done." I explained calmly, trying not to provoke him, I wasn't in the mood for a beating tonight. He marched out of the kitchen and towards where I was standing on the stairs. He was wearing a wife beater and ripped jeans, his pot belly sticking out over them. His hair was almost gone and I could see his rotten yellow teeth.

He stumbled over and slapped me across the face. Hard. I fell backwards, hitting my head against the wall, but I dare not cry out, he would only hit me harder.

"YOU'RE NOT GOING ANYWHERE UNLESS I TELL YOU TO! GOT IT?" Dad yelled. I nodded.

"Now go to your room and I don't want to see you until you've got a nice smile on your face! I gave you life! Not once have you shown any sign of thanks. Now SCRAM!"

I should be thankful? He gave me the worst life imaginable! I would rather have not been born at all. I ran up to my bedroom and locked the door.

I plopped down on my bed, putting my hand to my face. There was a giant bright red hand mark that was not going to be gone by school time tomorrow. I let out a small choked sob.

Ever since my dad lost his big business and my mother had left us, the beatings had only gotten worse. They had been there before, just less frequent. His drinking problem got worse, he smoked among many other disgusting things. I still was unable to make friends, because of him. I would come to school with cuts and bruises and people would think that they were self inflicted, always had. I'd only ever had one friend, but he had had to leave. I missed him every day, he was the only reason I kept going, I hoped that maybe one day I could see him again, though I knew I never would, he was gone. My only friend left me, he had to, he'd left me alone. I missed him so much I couldn't even bear to think of his name.

Sometimes I question why I still keep going. But then I realize I only have two more weeks of high school left. I turn eighteen in one month, not that I have anybody to celebrate my birthday with.

I looked in the mirror, tears streaming down my face. My blue eyes swollen and red.

"_Pathetic. You are pathetic. Only wimps cry. Crying is for weaklings." _The voice in my head said. The voice was pretty recent, it came right after my friend left. Never left me alone. It would haunt my every move, telling me what to do, not that I ever listened. They were morbid and cruel, though I sometimes found myself wishing I could, I wanted to hurt the people that had hurt me, I wanted them all to suffer as I did. But I wasn't sure I could.

"Shut up." I growled.

"_You deserve ever bit of suffering you get. You worthless freak."_ The voice snarled.

"Get out of my head!" I yelled angrily sweeping my books onto the floor. I looked back in the mirror.

"What should I do." I asked no one, but the voice answered.

"_Do what you've wanted to for years, kill him."_ Could I kill my own father. After what he'd done to me he deserved it, but could _I_ do it. The answer was yes.

"If a smile is what you want, a smile is what you will get." I muttered. I took out the knife from one of my drawers that I kept for emergencies and brought it level with my face. I pushed my waist length blond hair out of my face and slowly stuck the knife into the corner of my mouth.

"Say cheese!" And I ripped the knife upwards cutting into my cheek. There was a tingling sensation around the cuts, but almost no pain, other than a dull throb. I moved to the next cheek and brought the knife up, farther than I meant to, so far that it was all the way to my cheek bone. The smile now looked lopsided. It had a nice effect. I giggled happily. I tenderly licked my lips, reveling in the taste of my blood, metallic and salty.

I skipped over to my sewing box that I used for patching up my clothes. I couldn't just let the cuts stay open, they had to heal. The scars would never leave, I just didn't want to get infected. I sewed close the cuts, I never felt the needle, my cheeks had gone numb, probably for loss of blood. I picked up the knife once more and made my way back downstairs quietly so he would not hear me, this time the stairs made no creaks. I found him in the kitchen, drinking beer, he was obviously drunk.

"Hello father, I have the smile you wanted." I said with a false happy tint to my voice. He turned around, his eyes widened in horror when he saw the blood rushing from my face and the bloody knife in my hand.

"You maniac! Now what is everyone going to say!?" He yelled.

"That you fathered a freak, I guess." I said walking closer. "But, that will be _after_ they find your dead body." I gave him no time to react, I lunged and ripped the knife through his throat, blood going all over my arm. He choked for a few seconds before his eyes rolled back in his head and he fell to the ground, dead. I stood frozen for a few seconds, I'd finally done it. I had gotten rid of my father, something I had only dreamed of for the past ten years.

I knelt beside his body, letting the knife clatter to the floor. I hesitantly put my hand over his neck where the blood was rushing out from. I lowered my hand until I was touching the red, sticky substance. I rubbed my fingers together, completely amazed by the beautifulness of it. A giggle snuck it's way up my throat. I put my bloody hand over my mouth to try to stop it. Now wasn't the time to laugh, but I couldn't help it. I was soon laughing uncontrollably, I felt so free. I no longer had to deal with my father's beatings. The only thing I would still have from him where the scars he had given me, physical and mental. Oh, how I could see it now. I'd live a life of crime on the streets, happy to viciously murder people for the rest of my days.

My laughter ceased and I staggered to my feet. I had to leave, get as far away from my house as possible before the cops came to find his body. I probably had a couple of days before people started to notice the terrible smell of my dad's rotting body.

I fled out of the house, though I made sure to take a couple knives. I was about to go into another village when I remembered my promise earlier that morning I had made to Dustin. I smiled. I could easily find his house, I would just follow him home from school. Make him regret all that he had ever done me wrong. Regret shoving me in lockers, making fun of me, hitting me. I was going to make him beg for death, but first I had to find a place. Preferably some abandoned building, maybe in the narrows. I wasn't sure. Though I was sure of one thing, people would start to fear my name. I would make sure of that.

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	2. The Clown Prince of Crime

**Disclaimer: Anything you recognize I do not own**

**Please review and take my poll.**

**Thanks to sunnettle12199, ohsupwhassup, Valkyrie69 and Bloodyrose, xLunaAngelWarriorx for your reviews! I hope you like this chapter!**

**Chapter 2**

I crouched in a bush in Dustin's backyard, looking up into his bedroom window. I had followed him home from school that day. I was planning on taking him to the Narrows where I had found an abandoned apartment. I had cleared out the basement and put a table in the center of the room. There was one light, a light bulb hanging from a wire right over the table. It was perfect. I could torture him all I wanted. I had even changed my clothes. It wasn't that hard robbing a store without anyone noticing, I'd done it before.

I was dressed in a tight black tank top that had laces in the front to tie it up, he wouldn't recognize me. At least not at first

It was pitch black by the time all the lights in the house had gone out. I smiled mischievously before getting out of my hiding spot, unfortunately my hair got caught on a branch, I had to untangle it. All it did was piss me off, Dustin was really going to get it. Stupid bush.

I crept across the yard and to the window of Dustin's bedroom, which was luckily on the first floor. I tested the window, he hadn't locked it. That sucks for him. I pried it open and slipped quietly inside.

He was sound asleep in his bed, mouth hanging open and drooling. I stood over his bed and giggled. His eyes fluttered open. I let him register that I was in his room, his mouth hanging open in shock.

"Might want to close your mouth you could catch flies. Why don't I help?" I said smiling. Though it was dark, I knew he knew who I was. He started gaping like a fish, struggling for words. Before he could speak I punched him in the face and knocked him out. I smiled, satisfied. I picked him up over my shoulder and hopped out of the window.

It took a while to get to my hide out. I had to re-knock him out halfway there, and he wasn't the lightest person. He had lots of muscles, he was, afterall, The Captain of the football team.

When I got to my hide out I strapped him to the table and waited in the darkness of the corner of the room.

After a half and hour or so Dustin woke up. His eyes fluttered open and squinted from the bright light above his head. He jerked trying to get out of his bonds. He made grunting sounds that were getting increasingly panicked. I chuckled.

"Belts work well for strapping people down, even football players, such as yourself." I said walking into his sight. He gasped, pupils dilated in fear.

"Wh-who are you?" He stuttered.

"Aw, you don't remember?" I said with fake disappointment. " I'm the kid whose life was ruined thanks to YOU!" I yelled.

"Jackson." Dustin breathed.

"That's my name, don't wear it out!" I said giggling.

"Where did you bring me?" Dustin asked.

"Just an abandoned basement in the Narrows, why?" I said innocently.

"You're not going to get away with this! The police will find me, they'll lock you up in a mental hospital where you belong!" He growled. I tutted, pulling out my knife from my pocket.

"You are in no position to make threats." I said flashing my knife. Dustin stiffened when he caught sight of it. I turned around and took a step away. "Besides, I will get away with this, and when the police do find you," I paused Turning back around with a grin on my face. "All that will be left of you will be your cold. Rotting. Butchered body, laying face down in a creek."

Dustin's eyes widened in terror. He let out a little whimper. I laughed looking down at my feet.

"Hush little baby, don't say a word." I sang sweetly slowly looking up with a vicious on my face. "Amber's gonna pay you back today."

I tied a gag around his mouth so no one could hear his screams. I sliced open his shirt and ripped it off.

"Why are you taking my shirt off." He asked, terrified.

I looked up at him,

"I'm not going to rape you." I assured, then paused seeing the look of relief on his face. "I just need more space to work." The terror returned. I balled up the shirt and stuck it in his mouth. I put my finger to my lips.

"Shhhh." I hushed and giggled. Dustin's eyes seemed to get even wider.

I took my knife and slowly cut a long strip down his arm. He yelled into the gag. I did the same to the other arm and smiled maniacally when he started crying.

It sounded like he was begging me to stop but the gag muffled the sound.

"What's that?" I asked leaning close and cupping my hand around my ear. "You've got to speak up, I'm afraid I can't hear you. Neither can anyone else." I laughed hysterically when he tried to speak again.

"It's hopeless, deary. No ones going to find you... Alive." I told him. I moved my knife to his chest and sliced every inch of skin I could find. I laughed through Dustin's muffled screams. I had not had that much fun since my friend left me. Dustin didn't pass out until near the end. He was not going to make it out, he had lost to much blood.

I stood back admiring my work. There was something just so beautiful about blood. The way it shone in the light, a beautiful scarlet red colour. I couldn't help but be attracted to it. I slowly walked forward and put my hand on his chest, covered in blood. His chest rose and fell slightly, every breath could possibly be his last, and it was all my fault. I smiled when I felt the warm sticky blood ooze between my fingers. Oh, how I loved that feeling. I leaned in close over Dustin's face.

"This'll teach ya not to mess with me." I whispered, drawing out my knife to end his pitiful life.

"Sweet dreams." I cackled, and was so close to bringing my knife down to his throat when the door at the top of the stairs burst open.

"Shit." I whispered quietly. Had the cops already found me? That was impossible. It hadn't been more than a day since I took Dustin. I padded quietly into the corner where whoever it was wouldn't be able to see me. Light came in, but not from flashlights, from the other floor.

Men with strange clown masks walked in. They started whispering to each other when they saw Dustin's bloody body. I let out a quiet breath of relief when I realized they were not the police.

"Hey boss." One of them called. "We found something." I heard footsteps coming down the stairs. The men parted to let, who I assumed was their boss, through. He was the most different looking person I had ever seen. He was about six feet tall, he had tangled, greasy dyed green hair, purple gloves, a purple trench coat with a green vest, a purple dress shirt underneath and a dark purple and green tie to 'tie' it all off. He had purple pants and out of his black shoes were rainbow socks. Very strange if you ask me. Even more interesting was his face. He had white grease paint smeared all over it. Black paint around his eyes making them look dark and sunken. He had, from the looks of it, cut his cheeks, like I had, in the shape of a smile. He had put red grease paint along the scars and his mouth making him look like he was always smiling, menacingly. There was something familiar about him.

The man scanned the room and laugh. He strode towards the table with Dustin's mutilated body.

"Someones been busy." He laughed. He stuck his fingers in the blood and rubbed them together. The man turned back around to the other men and said,

"Take him away." The men walked forward. I couldn't let them do that, Dustin was mine to finish off.

"I'm not done with that." I said. The man with the face paint turned in my direction.

"It seems that someone is already occupying this space. Why don't you come out, Cupcake." The man said. I scowled, Cupcake? I'd been called many things, but Cupcake wasn't one of them. I walked forward, keeping my grip tight on the handle of the knife. I didn't walk directly into the light, I stayed in semi darkness.

"What, uh, what are you _doing_ here." The man asked, pointing to Dustin's bloody body.

"Does it matter?" I asked. The man shrugged.

"Come closer, I can't see you, but you can see me. We have no secrets here." The man laughed. I guess it couldn't hurt. I stepped into the light. He scowled.

"Where did you get your scars?" He asked. "Are you some copy cat? 'Cause I _hate _copy cats."

"How could I be a copy cat if I don't even know who you are?" I countered. The man laughed.

"You don't know who I am?" He wheezed. I shook my head. He laughed hysterically again.

"I'm the Clown Prince of Crime. The Joker."

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